


Rotors and Wings

by Skyslight



Category: Transformers - All Media Types, Transformers Generation One
Genre: 30 Day OTP Challenge, Gen
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-10-08
Updated: 2013-10-11
Packaged: 2017-12-28 20:59:41
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,719
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/996647
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Skyslight/pseuds/Skyslight
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>(Hopefully) 30 chapters of Blades and Slingshot's turbulence riddled relationship and my very loose interpretation of the prompts.<br/></p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Holding Hands

**Author's Note:**

> I haven't got a beta yet, so if anyone would mind letting me know of any mistakes I made in the fic or tips, I'd be grateful.  
> But otherwise enjoy.

The storm hit the canyon. Vicious winds whipped up dirt and dust into swirling clouds, the wailing causing aches in his audios and the sheer strength of the gale straining on his rotors. All the while, rain pounded down on his exhausted shoulders. He could feel water trickling into places it wasn't meant to and gave himself a shake as though to rid himself of the unsettling 'drip drip drip' of rain on his internal systems.    
  
Blades scowled up into the storm. Fragging earth weather. Fragging _Autobots_ for sending him out on the mission. Honestly, how slaggging hard was it to check the weather forecast every once in a while? Wasn't that what Blaster was for? Or how about Prowl, it seemed ridiculous their tactician, their _second in command,_ hadn't bothered to check whether a category 2- or probably 28 for all he knew- hurricane was anticipated to hit where they were sending a heliformer on a retrieval mission. A _heliformer_ ; best known for their inability to fly through any strong winds or heavy rain, or really anything other than a light breeze. Not that it would stop him of course. It would just raise the chances of him crashing and becoming a burning heap of scrap by a little. But really, what fun was flying without a little risk? Blades attempted to give an almost casual glance over the edge of the rock face, down the sheer drop to rest on the ravine floor far below. His tanks churned, in anticipation or dread he wasn't sure, but either way he wasn't going to wait it out.   
  
Not when his partner/ comrade/ _slagging annoying jet,_ was smirking at him from the edge of the cliff.  
  
The front of his pedes were hanging off the edge of the rock face while he balanced on his thrusters, wings arched back to slice through the air, keeping him steady against the gathering storm. The jet looked like a metallic version of the woman humans stuck on the front of their pirate ships, back arched and chest pushed forward, with his head hanging lazily to his side and lips quirked in a grin. He even had a visor to stop rain from trickling behind his optics. Fragging show off.  
  
Slingshot looked very much at ease balanced on the edge of a sheer drop, too smug in Blades opinion. He was tempted to push the jet off but he had little doubt that Slingshot would glide back up to return the favour. Only Blades wouldn't come back up. His gestalt would be collecting assorted helicopter parts from the ravine floor, not even Ratchet could bring him back from that drop. The grin on the jet's face meant he knew it too. The fact that he hadn't said anything yet meant he _knew_ that Blades was screwed, Slingshot, the sadistic glitch that he was, was going to wait until Blades had to admit he couldn't fly back. Until he had to _admit_ his weakness and get a lift back in Slingshot’s hold, crushed against his walls and made to endure the stream of mocking insults all the way to the Ark. And then he would face the rest of the Autobots, who he suspected, would be _immediately_ informed of the heliformer’s embarrassing rescue. Once again, _slagging jet_.  
  
Blades huffed and pointedly returned to glaring at the storm, what could've been a chuckle from the jet accompanying him. Screw Slingshot. He could fly this.  
  
Another glance at the ravine floor sent a shiver through his rotors, water splattering to the ground to accumulate with the puddles forming. As the storm began to pick up, the rain fell harder, creating a thick blanket of fog across the mountains. It seemed to be closing in on them, the bottom of the canyon already disappearing into darkness. He reset his optics a couple of times to try to clear the darkness, nope, definitely the weather. Blades took a step back from the edge, only because of a strong gust of wind though, wouldn't want to fall off of course. He set his alt mode sensors on, letting them fill his vision with warnings and reminders that there was no slagging way he could fly in this weather. His rotors were already straining, the swash plate pinging for immediate maintenance, assemblies refusing to twist against the force of the storm.

/Visibility: What visibility? You can see your feet and the jet what more do you want?

/Communications: Haha yeah, gonna comm. someone for help? How about the Aerialbot leader, I'm sure he wouldn't mind giving you a lift. Way to drag yourself through the mud even more Blades, not only you can't fly back, but you have to get an _Aerialbot_ to pick you up.

Oh yeah, great plan, that was if the storm wasn't causing great busts of static every time he turned on his comms. Did he need to see the rest of the warnings and readouts, reminding him he was glitched if he even tried to transform in this weather? Nope. That was enough condescending messages from his systems for today. 

Blades reset his optics once more, it wasn't going to do much, rain had gone behind the glass and was causing a layer of water between the glass and his sensors. He could try to tilt his helm forwards to get the water out but there was one smug visored jet watching him. Blades could almost hear the ‘Something in your optics 'copter?’ from Slingshot, see the cruel smile as Blades shot him a scowl, then the laughter as he turned away, having no ground to make any sort of comeback. But if there was one thing he _could_ do, it was wait.

Now, he knew he was –wrongly or rightly- commonly accused of being short tempered, impatient and abrasive, but he was nowhere near as bad Slingshot was, no one could deny that. The jet could barely listen to a mission briefing without becoming bored, let alone staying quiet. So by all logical means, Blades could wait out Slingshot; the urge to mock the heliformer and his own natural impatience rendering him mere minutes away from an outburst. He wouldn’t crack before the jet, he wouldn’t ask him outright for help. He was going to let Slingshot work himself up until he either flew off and left Blades to walk back, or demand that Blades get in his hold because he was bored of waiting for the heliformer. Both ways were going to earn him Slingshot’s insults, and probably Hot Spot’s ‘passive aggressive’ lecture on the need for cooperation when he heard of the mission’s outcome. But in both cases he wouldn’t have to ask Slingshot for help. He wasn’t that desperate as to give the jet ammunition for their fights, because, obviously he wouldn’t be allowed to forget this.

So he waited.

The storm moved closer, the aches in his audios became a constant ringing and his vision blurred to vague shapes, but he still waited. There was the occasional scuff of thrusters beside him as Slingshot shifted his weight from pede to pede, tell-tale signs of the jet’s growing impatience. Blades fought to keep a grin off his face and continued to ignore Slingshot’s shuffling, _gotcha now jet._

As predicted, there was a dramatic huff from his side then the jet’s wing came into view as he turned to face Blades. The ‘copter took his time turning around, coming face to face with one impatient jet, hands on hips and wings jerking with every gust of wind. Positioned as he was now, Slingshot looked to be having trouble standing still, his threatening stature ruined every time he staggered with the storm. Even though Blades was having as much trouble standing as the jet, a smirk still found his way onto his face. The darkened scowl he received was priceless, or would’ve been, if he could’ve seen it. But he highly suspected it was there.

“There something you looking at?” Blades asked casually, as if they weren’t standing in the middle of a storm, as if they were back in the rec room, settling in for another fight. Slingshot huffed and continued to glare. After some thought, and realisation that Blades wasn’t going to continue, his face shifted and visor brightened.

“Just wondering if you were planning on standing out here till we rust, rotorhead.” Slingshot growled the name; it was accompanied with a sharp rev of his engine to make it sound threatening. The effect was wholly lost over the raging storm. The large white figure was rather unsettling but Blades tried not to reset his optics, rather turning back to the canyon, blurred vision seemingly gazing over the darkness. There was a flash in the distance, lightning slicing through the thick fall of rain and dark clouds. Moments later there was a rolling growl, like the sound a Metroplex-sized-Grimlock would make when someone interrupted Kup’s war story. If it got any louder several bolts would be shook loose while his rotors vibrated with the intensity.

Blades waited a few moments before replying, “Admirin’ the view, that’s all.”

There was an angry engine growl as the jet took a step closer. “Right,” Slingshot scoffed. Blades turned his head slightly, not looking at Slingshot, but not exactly looking away either. Although Slingshot was the shortest Aerialbot, he still managed to loom over the rotary, his narrowed orange visor glowing in the darkness. His wings were hiked in annoyance, engine growling and elevons flared, but he continued with a sneer, “Didn’t know whether you were too scared to fly or something.”

“Na, it’s just a little breezy,” the rotary commented cheerily. He tilted his head slightly and gave Slingshot his best ‘totally innocent’ look (learnt and perfected by First Aid), “Why, are you scared little jet?”

The flare of Slingshot’s energy field was almost enough to make Blades laugh, yeah he was getting ticked off. The jet puffed up, shoulders hunching and armour shifting, “You’re the one standing around!”

Blades leant forwards towards the jet and cooed, “Is the wittle jet scared of da big bad storm?”

“Eat exhaust whirlybird.” Slingshot snapped. His wings flicked and jerked as the wind picked up, clacking elevons adding to Blades’ own rattling rotors. A sudden flash lit up the white jet, his armour practically shining with the lightning while a resounding crack followed sharply. Blades’ optics forced reset, sensors reeling and audios ringing, causing the warning queue to refresh, filling his processor with alarmed bleeps and flashing codes. It hurt like slag, but not enough to back down.

“Do you want me to hold your hand, huh? Wanna fly back together?” This time he was answered with a snarl and a gust of wind sending them staggering. They both regained their aggressive stances moments later, as if that hadn’t had happened.

“Frag off-” Slingshot began, but Blades wasn’t done. Not when Slingshot was so close to snapping. Time to pull out the big guns.

“How bout we get _Silverbolt_ to come save the poor little Slings?”

There was a harsh vent from the jet then a whirl of wings and shifting parts as Slingshot transformed and shot off down the canyon in a fit of superiority. No way was he going to comm. that useless, _cant-go-higher-than-20-meters_ leader. Not Slingshot. He looked unsteady at first, wings jerking as airstreams tugged him up while the rain pounded him down, but he didn’t swerve off into the canyon walls, so that was something. The white figure faded quickly into the darkness, leaving Blades standing on the cliff face.

_I win._


	2. Cuddling Somewhere

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Rating has gone up for gore, sorry if that makes anyone squeamish

You got used to seeing horrific wounds after a while, suppose it was something that just happened during war. But it didn't mean you flinched any less, or the panic died down, or stopped the rage that built when it was one of your own gestalt mates broken on the battleground; it just meant that you would act more rationally, you knew what needed to be done and could arrange the seriousness on a scale of 1 to yep, they ain't gonna make it, better call for body pick-up.

There were always some injuries you could relate to, a jet would wince at the sight of torn wings or a crushed fuselage. Grounders knew the pain of driving back on a slashed tire, or the harsh burning of exposed circuitry under bumpers that had suffered enemy blows. And rotaries? Well, they seemed to boast the most horrific injuries of all, so they didn't usually sympathise much more _admire_ each other’s wounds, as their comments were generally, "Woah cool, I can see your spark casing!" Or, "Damn, I only got a few tail rotors pulled off. Gonna try going after some combiners next time, I hear they really pack a punch." 

But not this time. This rotary didn't look half as happy as he usually did when sporting gashes and burns, proudly strutting in front of his gestalt medic to his frantic panicking and fretting. 

No, Blades looked in really bad shape. He’d crashed, that much was pretty obvious as Slingshot wandered closer, from the bent rotor blade that had sliced through his right side and embedded itself deep in the rotaries’ internals, leaving a wake of sliced metal and severed lines. With the rotor buried so close to his fuel pump, Blades’ self-repair was having trouble shutting off the energon supply, lest cutting off supply to the rest of his frame. So it poured out of the wound, coating his marred armour in a sheen of purple to pool and collect on the ground. Burns littered most of his left arm and chest, leaving blacked holes where the shots had burned through his armour while the edges still smouldered and glowed. And as if the growing amount of energon pooling under him wasn't cause for concern already, it would've been his lack of reaction, or even barbed replies to Slingshot's scoffing comments on his flying skills.

Instead, Blades had hauled himself over to the nearest rock and sunk to the floor. From there he hadn't said anything, hadn't moved much, other than to adjust his hand to try to stem more of the energon flow.

It was scary.

Slingshot gave up trying to elicit a reaction after a while and simply paced before the grounded rotary. There was the faint roar of engines and resounding blast of cannons from the battle in the background, and if he focused closely over the forest horizon, he could just about make out the smoke of the ruined power plant. The few trees around them had been knocked down under the force of a helicopter, and later a jet, hurtling into them. Blades’ rotors had sliced off most of the cushion-y foliage, leaving the only the tree trunk to break his fall, whereas Slingshot had just flew straight into them, leaves and all - in a rather controlled crash in his opinion.

His comms. had shorted out after getting caught in the wake of Thundercracker's sonic boom that had grounded him, so he couldn't call for Skyfire to pick Blades up, toting Ratchet or First Aid in his cargo hold. Judging by Blades' scorched arm guard, his comms. probably weren't working too well either. He’d sent a frustrated burst over the gestalt bond, but in the midst of a battle that wasn’t favouring the Autobots too well, it went unnoticed. Or maybe it was noticed but his oh-so-kind gestalt mates assumed he was simply pitching a fit after a few insults or shots were slung his way. He sent another wave of annoyance but was once again ignored. He turned on his heel and began to walk the other way.

Patching the rotary was out of the question, because, uhm... he might've forgotten his med kit back in his quarters. Not to mention that the emergency med lessons were better used for taping Firelight up in gauze or messing around with the practise frames. Air Raid still winced when someone mentioned fuel pumps, after somehow managing to weld one to his stabilisers when practising repairs.

So no repairs for Blades.

The rotary could probably have patched himself up with his gestalt mate being a medic and all, but cognitive thought seemed to be slowly slipping from his capability. His fingers slipped from the death grip around one of his main lines, falling out of the gash and letting a fresh stream of energon pour down his side. Blades fumbled, shoving his hand deep into his side trying to get a grip again but his hands didn't seem to be cooperating, knocking about broken shards of metal as he tried to find the broken line.

He looked pathetic. Optics flickering dimly and the remaining tail rotors shifting slowly, as though still trying to spin.

Slingshot stopped pacing to watch him. He obviously was no expert, but Blades was looking _really_ bad. The jet's engine gave a frustrated rev, he had no idea what to do. Blades was losing too much energon for Slingshot to try to fly him to help, he wasn't _that_ slow, but the sonic boom had really messed with his instruments, ending up crashed into a mountain side wasn’t going to do much good for either of them. Slingshot sent a burst of anger through the gestalt bond, traced with _maybe_ a little panic. Still no response.

He stepped in front of the rotary and waited for any sort of reaction. Blades’ helm tilted up a little so he took that as recognition.

“You called your gestalt?”

No reply. No reaction either, the visor just flickered weakly as it had been for the past few minutes. Slingshot revved his engine and flared his elevons. He wasn’t too surprised with the lack of reaction, Blades hadn’t reacted to any of his earlier comments either, but then again, he wasn’t as panicked as he was now.

“What? You _Protectobots_ can’t protect one of your own? Call your damn medic you glitch,” Slingshot snapped. Blades shifted his hand and his engine gave a sputter.

Slingshot huffed as Blades’ hand slipped once more on the energon smeared across his frame. He had to do _something._ He might not like the guy but come on! Like he was just going to watch a mech bleed to death.

“Frags sake,” the jet sighed. He moved closer to Blades and kicked his side lightly, wedging a foot between the rock and the rotary. Blades’ optics brightened and his helm tipped towards the jet. Slingshot gave him another shove with his foot, firmly getting his thruster behind the mech. “Move over rotors.”

Blades didn’t move, but then again Slingshot didn’t expect him to. It was just a warning that he was going to move the rotary whether or not he liked it. Blades did frown slightly as Slingshot pushed him further forwards so he was standing behind him.

With a little bit of manoeuvring, Slingshot managed to lower himself down to sit behind the rotary, with Blades sat in between his legs. Slingshot wrapped his arms around the copter’s waist and pulled him back, letting him rest what remained of his rotor hub against his chest. His right arm removed the hand Blades’ had tried to wedge into the gash and replaced it with his own. He pushed his hand deep into the rotary’s side.

It felt more than weird to be feeling around inside Blades’ systems, the leaked energon making the metal warm and slippery. His arm tore over the sharped edges of the gash, but he ignored the shooting pain to push his hand in further.  It took a bit of fumbling but he soon found the line Blades had been desperate to close. It was a main one, that was pretty obvious if not for the vast amount of energon it leaked then the size of it in Slingshot’s hand. He grabbed the end that lead away from the fuel pump and tightened his grip, crushing the soft metal in his palm. The soft pump of energon from the line stopped as the flow was cut off.

It wasn’t a permanent solution. If help didn’t come along soon enough Blades would fall into stasis from the growing pressure in his energon lines where it couldn’t leave the fuel pump to complete its circuit. Circling around and around in the small fuel pump’s chambers was going to be painful for the rotary soon. At the moment though, Blades seemed better, he actually seemed to rest back onto his chest rather than being held there against his will.

Slingshot doubted he would get much more than a grunted thanks when the rotary was patched up and out of medbay, but he honestly couldn’t care much for that right now. Not when he knew someone was going to find them in this position, legs spread with Blades all but sitting in his lap while he hugged him from behind. Considering his current luck it was going to be either Sunstreaker or Sideswipe that found them, or perhaps Bluestreak who would immediately relay his discovery on the public comms.

The jet’s engine gave a frustrated growl at the thought of their situation becoming common knowledge, reverberating down his arm and deep into the rotary’s internals. There was a sudden flare of the field above him and a burst of static from a vocaliser. Slingshot jerked back in response, wings stiff as he cut his engine and opened his vents, trying to disperse the sudden heat that followed. Well, uhm… At least it got Blades’ attention, not the _right_ kind of attention but... His arm tightened around the rotary’s waist as he tried to settle onto the rock, pulling the rotary down with him. He reset his vocaliser from the strange heat that settled after the field flare.

“You say _anything_ about this to _anyone_ , and you’re dead you hear me?” He growled, this time keeping his engine from revving angrily, or embarrassment, both were fitting right now.

There was a burst of static from above him and another flare; this one didn’t bring the annoying prickling heat like the last one, just the annoyance of the rotary. Yeah, like he would want this getting out either. At least they agreed on that much.

 

 


End file.
